The Riveting Life of Dudley Dursley

Dudley was annoyed. Him? A job? Please. Dudley didn't do work, and frankly, he was outraged that the ridiculous topic had been brought up in the first place. He was perfectly content with his sofa, his fridge, and his plasma tv in HQ with surround sound. If he'd wanted a job, he'd get one. Damn his mother prattling on.

Dudley plonked himself down on the sofa, and reached for the remote. Grumbling he flicked through the channels until he found 'The Jeremy Kyle show' If there was one thing Dudley hated, it was whiners. And if there was one thing Dudley loved, it was watching them argue their petty, stupid little problems on screen. 'Lazy, whiny, stupid slobs' Dudley thought, yet he relished their humiliation. After half an hour of on screen shouting, Dudley's stomach gave a rumble and he heaved himself off the sofa and slouched off to the kitchen, just as the front door opened and his mother walked through, arms laden with shopping bags. Dudley grabbed himself a can and a hefty serving of chocolate cake, ignoring his mother and hoping she would leave him alone. He hated whiners, and she was one heck of a whiner. Petunia Dursley heaved her shopping bags onto the table, her bony arms aching.

'Dudders, darling,' Petunia cooed at the sight of her son all grown up.

'Mmmphh' Dudley replied as he fished for a fork out of the cutlery draw, realised they were all in the dishwasher and settled for shovelling the cake in his mouth with his fingers.

'How's my Dudley dumpling?' Petunia said.

'Mmphhh.'

'Good, good. Guess who I bumped into today?' Dudley didn't answer. He really didn't care. Petunia chatted on. 'Mrs Jones. She said her Nick, you know the one who owns the post office. Thinks himself as the big 'I am' with that silly moustache.' The fact that her late husband was arguably king of silly moustaches seemed to have escaped her. 'Well Nick told her to tell me to tell you, that they have a free post going. An extra pair of hands needed. Said there was nice pay-'

'No.' Dudley said. 'I don't want a job.'

'Why not Pumpkin? '

'You remember what Dr. Thomas said. He said for me to be careful with my back. Hard labour won't do it no good as you well know.'

'Darling, it's a post office, surely you can-'

'Do you really want me to risk it?'

Petunia sniffed, 'Well, I suppose it's not a good idea. Anyway,' Petunia was now in full gossip mode, 'I hear the place isn't going to last much longer. I said that Nick was a waste of space didn't I? Right from the beginning. You could do better than that Dudley. You're a blessing, you are. One that one poxy, rundown post office doesn't deserve.' She huffed on

'Mmmph' Dudley mphhhed, though with slightly more pinach now he was off the hook.

'Oh no!' Dudley sighed as his mother panicked, her bony fingers scrabbling through the Tesco bags. 'I can't believe it!'

'What's wrong?' Dudley said, although he didn't really care, but he felt he had to ask because 'The Jerry Springer Show' was on in a minute and he didn't want his mother to ruin it with those stupid noises she was making.

'The milk! It's exploded all over the canned items! Damn cheap packaging!' Petunia said.

So, thought Dudley

Petunia huffed quite unnecessarily, 'That shop! Hand me the phone, Dudders. This has happened once too often!'

'Can't,' said Dudley, 'My shows on.' And he slouched back to plonk his behind on the already permanent dent imbedded in the sofa cushions.

Big Brother. The bane of Dudley Dursley's existence. Who wanted to watch some stupid show where you just saw stupid people sitting on their sofas and arguing about stupid things. Not Dudley. Unfortunately for him, the remote had gone missing, and he was forced to watch this atrocity. The BBC's gone to pot, thought Dudley, and then he realised it was actually channel four, which made him angrier because that had gone to pot as well.

Dudley's mobile phone rang. And rang. And rang. Couldn't his mother get that? He was busy. 'Dudley darling, pick up your phone love, I'm on the landline to Tesco' his mother called from the kitchen. With an annoyed sigh, Dudley reached into his pocket and pulled out his old Nokia.

'Hey Big D!' a voice rang down the line.

'Who is this?' Dudley asked impatiently.

'Ahh, can't you guess?'

'If you're just going to waste my time-' Dudley was not in the mood

'Naaa of course not Big D! It's me, Piers!'

Ahhhh, Piers Polkiss. Dudley's old best mate. 'Oh, right.'

'Just called to catch-up! I haven't seen you in years Dud!'

'You rang me up to tell me that?' If there was one thing Dudley hated more than whiners, it was time wasters.

'uhh... no. Just rang to say, well Sarah and I, we're getting married! The kids are really excited!' Piers gushed.

Sarah- Blonde bombshell, Russian model, ten years younger than Piers. Sex. Symbol.

But Dudley wasn't jealous. Models and their pointless, shallow lives. He wanted nothing to do with it.

'So?' he said dryly.

'You coming to the wedding then? Should be in August. Don't know the exact date yet-'

'Can't. Busy. Nice talking to you. Bye.'

Dudley sighed again and turned his attention back to the television. Lazy, media hoggers. If he was-

'DUMPLINNNNNG! Will you do mummy a favour?' Petunia wailed from the kitchen.

'No.' Will that blasted woman leave him alone? He was busy!

'I just need you to go down to the corner shop and pick me up some milk. I got in touch with Tesco, and they tried to win me back with their usual tosh and-'

'Ok ok! I'm going now.' Dudley was very annoyed.

'Good boy Dudders. Always helping your mummy.' Petunia sang, and Dudley once again took the trouble to heave himself off the couch.

Grumbling, he trailed out of the house and slammed the door behind him. He walked up Privet Drive, passed the neat green lawns and the red brick houses. His eyes were hurting after being cooped up inside for so long. Damn sunlight, though Dudley. A little girl was riding her pink tricycle up the street, and that batty lady Mrs Figg was taking advantage of her home help as per usual. Well, thought Dudley, serves that Rico right. With his fancy Latin ways and his rippled chest. The old woman was insufferable though. Like she needed help to push her wheelchair anyway. He'd seen her do at least thirty down Robinson Road when that blonde American bloke moved into the Greyson's old place.

Finally, he reached the corner shop. He pushed his way passed a small redheaded girl at the sweet shelves and grabbed a carton of milk, before making his way to the back of the shop. To the magazine section. But not just any magazine section. The Adult magazine section. Dudley likey.

A teenager noticed Dudley's arrival, and with a start, shoved the magazine behind his back, blushing. Dudley raised his eyebrows. 'Should you be here...kid?'

The teenager, looking relieved (relieved at the fact it was a middle aged stranger and not his parents that had found him, Dudley suspected) shot back, 'Actually, I'm fourteen. You're the middle aged saddo in this scenario mate.'

A wise guys, huh? If there was one thing Dudley hated more than whiners and time wasters, it was wise guys.

'Whatever kid.' Wait. That kid looked slightly familiar. Very familiar. It couldn't be. What were the chances. I mean, he'd heard about his cousin having kids but... them being here.

'You er... don't happen to know Harry Potter do you?' Dudley stuttered.

The boy looked shocked. His eyes flashed with a mixture of nervousness, and recognition.

'No. Can't say I do. Do you?' The boy said coolly, though there was a shine of sweat on his forehead.

'No. Never even heard of him.' Dudley said quickly. I mean, it's not that he cared that Harry may find out his cousin was unemployed (because he was sure that was obvious) and looking at naughty magazines like a seedy old man. He really didn't give a damn what Harry thought.

'Oh. That's good.' The boy said. A mutual understanding was formed between them: If you don't tell Harry what I do, I won't tell Harry what you do.

Their bond was broken by a little girl's call. 'James! I've picked the sweets I want!'

James hurried towards the redhead, 'Ok, Lils. Wait! You can't get all that, I'm not made of money you know!'

Dudley was just about to turn away from their annoying banter, because if there was one thing Dudley hated more than whi-

PHWAOORR. Look at that! A very attractive woman had just entered the corner shop, her red hair fanning out behind her. Dudley hurridly put as much distance as he could between himself and the magazines. He didn't want her to think he was weird. Her eyes met his for a second, and widened in startled recognition?

'Mr. Dursley? Dudley right?' She said.

'Err, yes.. yes!' he said joyously, amazed that she knew him!

'We haven't met of course, but I used to see you at Kings Cross years ago!'

Kings Cross?

'Don't you recognise me?' The lady said. 'Oh well of course you wouldn't- we never spoke.' Trust me gorgeous, Dudley thought, I would definitely remember you.

'I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley, well Ginny Potter now, for years in fact.' She smiled contentedly.

'Uh.'

'Those are my children,' she continued, 'James and Lily. And Harry and I have another boy, Albus.'

But Dudley wasn't listening. He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true!

Of all the bad luck: Harry Potter had bagged a babe.

This seemed quite natural to write. I really got into it! I hope you enjoyed reading. Please review and tell me what you think! Thanks, Soph :P